


Neighbors

by Linhiful



Series: Modernlorian [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Not Beta Read, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linhiful/pseuds/Linhiful
Summary: You’ve never even caught a glimpse of the man who lived beside you. You didn’t even know what he looked like. But he had a routine every single day, and, as silly as it sounded, you’ve come to depend on it. Found comfort in it.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Series: Modernlorian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629919
Comments: 9
Kudos: 197





	Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hey! Hello! I haven't written fanfiction in years and I haven't written a reader-insert in even longer! But I am fucking hot for Mando and I thought it would be super fun to imagine reasons why you wouldn't see his face in modern-day. I've already come up with a bunch of ideas for this collection, some of them may be connected and some of them may not be! I do have maybe two more prompts to go with this particular story hehe. 
> 
> If you have any ideas please feel free to shoot them my way. I haven't used my Tumblr in ten thousand years but I am thinking about reviving it just so you guys can send prompts my way. 
> 
> linhiful.tumblr.com

As you laid in the dark, eyes gazing onto the ceiling, the lowlights of the parking lot peering through your bedroom window, it was probably the closest to home you’d ever felt. The building was old, creaky, walls so thin you could hear the quiet murmur of your neighbor beside you. But it was comforting like you weren’t really alone in this apartment.

You weren’t supposed to be alone, not originally, but maybe, that was for the best. He has never touched anything in here, never held you in this room, never tumbled through your hallway in the middle of the night. You never woke up in the morning just to find a body sprawled out across the bathroom floor, sometimes faced down deep into the bathtub. 

Instead, you were surrounded only by your things, and everything you placed down was right where you left it. It was the first time any space was yours and yours alone. 

Your lease was up in a month. In three years, you have lived in a different place every year. Not on purpose, not really, but each apartment you’ve lived in just had _something_ that wasn’t quite right. _Something_ that just made your home not really a home.

The first one, there were too many children, but not just too many children, too many unruly children. Children who left their toys out on the sidewalk, and stomped their feet in the room above you, rattling the ceiling at all hours of the day, sometimes even at night.

Then, across from you, their mom just left. Packed her bags one day and kissed them goodbye, and it didn’t take long before they turned their sparkly eyes towards you for guidance. Except you weren’t a role model, weren’t someone who was trying to be a pseudo mother to lost children wondering, _why couldn’t we just be enough?_

And that was the question wasn’t it? One that you couldn’t answer for them. Couldn’t even answer for yourself.

The second apartment, it wasn’t just yours but _ours._ It was home for a little bit, but it was too good to be true the first few months. It was just painted well, the cracks hidden underneath cabinets, behind layers of beautiful taupe walls and marble counters.

But they crawled through, sneaking into every single corner and crevice. They never left, not truly. Even as you crushed as many as you could, doused each corner as thoroughly as you could, they just survived. Kept on going. Spreading whatever disgusting germs and filth they mucked around.

Until you had to leave.

And if that wasn’t a metaphor for that failed relationship, you didn’t know what was.

Your neighbor was quiet, for the most part. You heard his footsteps, heard the rustling of a body almost like it was beside you. You’ve never met him, not in the entire time you’ve lived here. You’ve walked by other neighbors, their smiles always spread across their face, and a small wave of a hand or nod of the head.

But you’ve never even caught a glimpse of the man who lived beside you. You didn’t even know what he looked like. But he had a routine every single day, and, as silly as it sounded, you’ve come to depend on it. Found comfort in it.

He started his day off as you ended yours, settling yourself into the warm covers of your bed. The weight of the blanket laid over you like a warm hug and the pillows filled up the empty corners of the bed. You were nestled in as tight as you could. 

Every night he did push-ups? At least it sounded like it. Maybe it was sit-ups? But you heard each grunt he made as he lifted up, a quick intake of breath, and on some nights you counted along with him until you drifted off into sleep. 

On restless nights, when you would toss and turn, you'd count until each number turned into a pair of muscular, tan arms. Up. Down. Up down. The sweat trickling down those arms, his blank face slick with sweat, and veins bulging from the strain. 

You wondered what it tasted like, the salt and power on his skin. Gods, it's been so long, too long, since you've had someone to quell the ache between your legs if you were lusting after someone you've never even seen. 

He'd move on to something else. Pull-ups maybe? Because you heard the creaking of strained wood. The doorway maybe? But the grunts were louder now, and they'd fill your ears until you were biting down on your lip.

Would he hear you? If you needed relief? But surely he wouldn't hear you, not over the strain of whatever physical activity he had to concentrate on. Could you stay quiet?

You imagined the creaking of his bed, sometimes you'd hear it as he was slipping underneath his own covers as you were just rising for the day. Would it sound like this? Steady and strong? You swore you could feel the puff of breath against your ears as his grunts would turn into moans and no one could fault you for your fingertips trailing down into your pajama pants. 

You were already wet when you touched yourself, and you couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when you touched your own swollen clit. You wondered how big his hands were, how thick his fingers, but you just knew they'd be rougher than yours. Calloused. 

Surely, they'd fill you up, more than the two fingers you slipped onto yourself. You smothered the moan with your other hand and slipped two fingers into those lips as well. 

What would his cock taste like?

You pumped yourself to the rhythm of his grunts, and you imagined his strong wide back rippling with strength. How would it look with your nails digging into his skin? Leaving long angry lines that drew out even more deep noises from his lips. 

You could feel it if you closed your eyes, his shadowed form hovered over you in the dark. The only thing you could see in the dim light was his broad chest as his finger pumping steadily inside of you. He was rough in the best way possible, filling you up in ways that you had almost forgotten. You could only imagine how the stretch would feel with his thick, heavy dick.

You imagined brown hair against his tanned, bronzed skin as he trailed down the length of your body. You could not smother the whine that escaped from your lips when another finger slipped inside and you were _sosososo_ close.

But the rhythm slipped, a pause, and for a moment there was silence. All you could hear was your fingers sunk into the slickness between your legs. Your orgasm slipped away from you but the ache was still there, so much that it hurt.

Did he hear you? 

And you stopped with bated breath, heart pumping hard in your chest. You wiped your drenched fingers on your comforter and it was just a second later that his deep grunts filled the air once again. It was louder this time, faster, and a pang of longing clenched in between your legs.

But the moment was gone, even as you reached down and arched your throbbing clit into your hand. You didn’t remember falling asleep but instead of the toe-curling satisfaction of the best orgasm you’ve ever given yourself, you instead found yourself waking up to the shrill beeping of your alarm.

You settled in for the next night, swaddling into your warm blankets. You didn’t bother with clothes this time, the soft silky sheets felt luxurious against your skin and you wondered why you didn’t do this more often.

All day, your panties were damp with excitement, and you were teetering on the edge since the moment you woke up. It wouldn’t take long tonight, not from the moment his low voice would rumble from behind the wall and your hand touching you right where it hurt.

But you glanced at the clock and for a man who always did everything right on schedule, he was late. You sucked in a breath and felt a small trickle of worry. Was he okay? Did something happen to him?

And panic began to set at the bottom of your gut. Or what if he heard you? What if he was offended? Or embarrassed? You sat up, back leaning against your bedroom wall and strained your ear to listen for the tall tale sign of his footsteps. Of anything.

And you heard it. The soft creaking of the mattress and you almost gave out a sigh of relief. Except this was out of the ordinary? And your fingers twitched, longed to settle into yourself and pump the tension out of your body. 

And then you heard it. It was maybe the sexiest noise you'd ever heard in your life. A moan, coming in from behind the wall and it was different from any of the ones you've heard from him. It was breathless, and the fluttered against your ears like a kiss. 

You took in a deep breath, almost let out a moan yourself when another one came, a little bit louder this time and you imagined that he was on the other side of this wall, hand fisting that impossibly large cock.

Your pussy clenched, and you almost sobbed out in relief when you dipped your fingers inside. You didn't bother to smother down your moans tonight, not when that deep guttural sound was just behind the thin wall that divided you. 

He was still meticulous, the grunts coming out in time, and you imagined the rhythmic pumping into his fist, tightening around his thick base nestled in coarse black hair. 

He grew louder when you unashamedly threw your head back, thumping into the wall, thrusting in time with him. 

"God, I'm so fucking wet for you," you say, and you weren't sure if he could understand, but it was enough for another gush of juices to coat the sheets below. 

You were so slick, so fucking ready to cum, but it wasn't enough, not yet. His pace grew faster, and you wanted to hear what his voice sounded like, wondered if it was as sexy as noises he made now. 

What would it feel like if he fucked your mouth at that pace, hands clenched into your hair, forcing your head down on his thick cock. You wouldn't be able to help the drool, only able to open up your throat and accept the punishing pace he set. 

But he wouldn't cum. Not yet. He had to wait. Just like you. It didn't matter how many delicious noises he made as you slurped up the precum dribbling out of his tip. It didn't matter as you swirled your tongue against his skin as you suckled on his heavy balls. 

No. He couldn't cum until he was inside you, filling your walls past anything you've ever taken in. You ached for him, so much that it hurt, but not as much as the delicious _streeeeetch._ It hurt in the best way possible, and you didn't need it slow, didn't want to adjust. Just a breathless groan of a _fuck_ into your ear as he bottomed out. 

And then you wanted him to fucking wreck you. To rail into you until you couldn't walk, just lay there and take his dick until it was the only thing you could think about. 

"I'm going to cum." And you could have sworn you heard a growl in response, but you couldn't understand it. Maybe from the distance or the loud pounding in your ears as you finally _finally_ reached your peak with a scream. 

And he followed you with a primal roar that you will be dreaming about for weeks. You imagined him, spent with cum splattered against his thighs and chest and gods, you wanted to lick it off his body.

As you laid there, back against the wall, panting still from what really was the best orgasm you've probably experienced in your life, you could almost swear you could hear his breathing in time with yours. 

And as you drifted off into sleep, faintly hearing the quiet squeaking of springs, you think that you will renew your lease for another year. 


End file.
